


From Mini Cooper, with Love

by SolatienRealms



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Amnesia, British Parenting at its best, England's A-Grade Driving, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 13:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3327926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolatienRealms/pseuds/SolatienRealms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland's in big trouble.When hunting for the contact number of Guinness World Records while driving at 40m/h,he nearly ran over a man and now the said man has Amnesia. A few streets away,Gilbert and Antonio are searching for their friend Francis who left their shared apartment but never came back. And the missing man only has Luck, Arthur and a Mini Cooper to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night which started it all

“Hey Francis, you still dating that creepy Belarusian?”

Francis looked up from behind the novel he _had_ been reading peacefully. A pair of red eyes met him. Great. Gilbert still hadn’t grasped the concept of ‘Personal Space.’ And knowing the German, he never will.

“Her name is Natalya.” After a second he added in a lower tone, “And don’t call her creepy she might hear you.”

“Look Amigo, you need to get a better girlfriend.”

The two men turned to their right and spotted Antonio eating a Churro while sitting lazily by the bay window.

“Hey Dummkopf, we had a share and care policy didn’t we? Share the éclair.”

Antonio grinned as he swallowed the rest of the sweet treat, “It’s a Churro.”

Gilbert looked at the traitor, his jaw open wide. How dare he?

“Give that Back, you greedy, Spanish Tomato.”

Antonio grinned at the German. “But I already ate it.”

“I don’t give a damn. Now give that Back.”

Francis sighed as he saw Gilbert shake Antonio. His friends meant the world to him but it still didn’t erase the fact that sometimes he seriously considers selling them off to Ivan.

He stood up and walked out of the room, he desperately needed to finish reading the book. He had to return it to the library the next day. He pulled on his coat, why should he lie to himself? One of the main reasons he was going out was because he knew that his friend will try to discuss about his love life and that is something he will like to avoid. Thank you very much.

He stepped out into the cold night air. He took a deep breath and found himself smiling. Contrary to popular belief, he actually loved night time for another reason and not what everyone usually thinks it to be. Everything seemed and smelt fresher. There were not many vehicles going about and most importantly not many people either. It was the only part of a day in which he could truly feel alone. Like the world spun only for him, Francis Bonnefoy. He wasn’t just another person on earth. He meant something.

He walked quietly down the road. He wanted to go the park where he could read the book without any interference, where he could drown himself in pages and pages of ink in a world different to his own, away from his friends and away from Natalya.

Natalya… Ivan Braginsky’s younger sister. She was…different. In more ways than one-

  1.        She was the only woman in her twenties who wore long gowns and had a large bow the size of her head pinned neatly on her hair.
  2.        She didn’t talk much and when she did talk, it was always about Ivan.
  3.        She hated Francis.
  4.        The only reason she was dating him was because- as quoted- “One day when I kill Alfred, I need you to provide me with an alibi”
  5.        He had dated seventeen girls before her and was known as the city playboy. A reputation he wanted to shake off by dating her for five months and twelve days as of today; yes he has been counting.
  6.        She was handy with a knife.
  7.        She scared him to death and beyond.



He pulled his coat on tighter. Everyone he knew had told him to get his act together and date someone seriously, that was right before he started dating Natalya. Now they wanted him to break up with her. He sometimes couldn’t understand it. What did they want him to do? When he was single they encouraged him to get it on with more people, when he was dating many girls they wanted him to be in a serious relationship, now that he was in a serious relationship, they wanted him to break up with the girl. Love was complicated but sometimes friendship was even more.

He spotted a homeless man shivering on the pavement. The weather was cold not one meant for a man to be outside in without even a jacket. He didn’t think about it when he did it, it was sympathy for the man which led him to remove his jacket and drape it around the man’s shoulders. The man smiled graciously, Francis in return shook his head and smiled at the man before standing up and making his way to the park.  But the more distance he travelled away from the man, the more curious he became.

Was the man an orphan? Did he not have families or friends? He looked behind but he had come a long way thus he couldn’t see the homeless man. He felt his heart drop. He would have liked to speak to him, give an ear to what he had to say. Because if he could say something with certainty, it was this-everyone had a story to say; their life, their dreams, their fears- It might seem ordinary but it isn’t. He knew this ever since he was little. Gilbert, Antonio, Dad, Mom, the other Dad, his siblings. All of them had a story to say; sometimes joyous, sometimes heart wrenching but always real and interesting.

“Never judge a book by its cover,” his mom would say quoting someone else’s words. But she was right and so was the one who said it originally. Most of the books he read had dull, uninteresting covers but the story within the pages was nothing short of magical. And that’s how people are too. Sometimes the dullest of them would have the best stories to say.

He smiled as he walked down the road. There was an intersection coming up. He crossed it with ease. He could see the park just a few feet away, he grinned, he could finally read the book. He could have borrowed two books from the library but he knew he didn’t have the time to read them. Not with Natalya showing him her extensive knife collection every week. She buys new ones frequently, additions to her little family she calls them. She lied. It wasn’t little. But her sister had told him that Ivan had a bigger collection of lead pipes, ropes and chains in the basement. He had made it a point afterwards to never visit the basement. Ever.

Anyway returning back to the topic of library, he never got late to return books-which was why he had to finish reading this one- but he was quite notorious in the past for losing his library cards, now he kept them safely in his wallet.

He stopped walking. His wallet. Merde! It was in his jacket. The jacket he gave to the homeless man. His eyes widened as he swore out loud before running back.

When Francis said that dull people usually had the most interesting things to say he was right. And Arthur Kirkland was going to have plenty to say.

Arthur drove along the road at nearly 40 m/h. He had a rough day at work. A very rough day. The headmaster of the elementary school in which he worked had called him in to talk about the S bomb he dropped in class. After an hour of lecturing he had finally been sent back with a warning; cuss again and he is out of the school. It was a splendid warning which made him even more edgy than usual. Vash Zwingli who teaches Mathematics was kind enough to tell him that he must consult the Guinness book of world records because he certainly must have broken a world record for most profanity used in a minute. It wasn’t funny to Arthur but who knows might be true. And if he had, Mr. Edelstein could stick Arthur’s resignation letter up his own arse because Arthur would be famous. What was the Guinness record’s contact number anyway because a world record is about to be broken, bitches.

It was an empty road so Arthur took his eyes off for just a few seconds while he hunted on his phone’s internet for the contact number. Big mistake because when he looked up again he was five seconds away from pancaking a blonde to the road. He stomped his foot on the break and swore “Fuck!”

Francis turned and stared at the oncoming mini cooper before opening his mouth and muttering  “Merde.”

Four minutes later an ambulance raced to little Columbia Street after nurses at the Hetalia Hospital got an astonishing call.

“Bull Fucking Shit, what the Fuck is wrong with this hell hole? Bloody Wanker. Fucking Prat. Fuck Edelstein. Fuck Zwingly and Fuck Everybody Because I just Fucking ran my bloody Fucking Car over a Fucking Moron. ”


	2. 15m/h to 20m/h is not deadly!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denial...isn't it just great?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this that means you've decided to give this story a chance. Thank you so much. It means a lot to me.  
> And P.s- cussing ahead courtesy of our favourite Brit.

Arthur Hated Hospitals. Ever since he was a little kid, he hated them. And with good reason.  
1\. They were big. Like so big you could fit all of Ludwig’s no nos in here with Ivan’s unmentionables and you will still have plenty of space.  
2\. Everything has to be white. From the walls to the coats and the fucking curtains. White. Like seriously don’t the wankers know that there are others colours out there too? Like blue, green or fucking pink. If he gets hold of a paint can, he will paint the whole bloody hospital pink just like his roommate Felix did to their shared bathroom. It taught Arthur to never take too long in the shower ever again. And when Arthur paints this hell hole pink, it will teach them to never use white again ever.  
3\. And the smell. Oh god the smell. It’s so horrible. He didn’t want to linger about this any further.  
4\. Oh and he forgot his mom. She is a surgeon here. She was supposed to be splendid at what she did but well-  
“Arthur, you good for nothing Dickwad. Why the hell did you run your fucking car over that man?”  
All the people around them stared at the woman who entered the room. She was beautiful. She had blonde hair messily tied up in a bun, a beautiful face even with those gigantic eyebrows and a slim but quite muscled figure. But it was the eyes that drew everyone’s attention; a pair of angry green eyes the colour of ivy on a stormy day- oh nearly forgot- and the scalpel she was carrying on her right hand.  
“Arthur you better start explaining what happened moron!”  
Arthur glared at his mother. She was a tough woman. She had brought up four boys-all the rough and tumble variety-so he knew just what she was capable of. It was no secret that in her marriage, she held the whip.  
The other part of her marriage came into the waiting room with a smile.  
“Arthur,” his father said with a smile, “The man you ran over with your car is stitched up all right. Freda who is just magnificent at her job saved him. He could have died you know darling.”  
Arthur stared at his father, “Died? What are you talking about?” he stood up to his full height-an inch shorter than his father-and glared. His father quivered and moved behind. “I reduced my speed dad. When I saw the fucker in front of my car I slammed on the breaks. I must have hit him with about 15 to 20m/h. At the most the douchebag must have got a fracture. There is no fucking way he could have died!” Arthur screeched. His dad yelped and hid behind his wife who just muttered, “Idiots.”  
She gripped Arthur with her hands and stared at him. “Look young man, I want to know why you didn’t see him when he first crossed the intersection.”  
Arthur swallowed. Freda Kirkland was known for her temper, one that would certainly flare up if she knew that her son didn’t notice the man because he was too busy finding the contact number of Guinness world records. So Arthur didn’t say a word. Better safe than sorry.  
Freda was about to ask him again when a nurse came to her. “Dr. Kirkland, John Doe has been transferred to ward 3-c.”  
She nodded at the nurse before dragging Arthur along to the ward.  
“Why are you taking me there?” Arthur asked loudly. He was met with a firm stare.  
“You nearly killed him.” Arthur rolled his eyes. There she goes again.  
They walked past countless rooms until they reached a big door. Freda pushed it open and looked around the ward until she spotted him.  
“There he is.”  
Arthur stopped walking when his mom pointed to a bed not much further away. He felt his mouth go dry. This was bad. Nasty even. To see the man you nearly ki- no he was driving at 20m/h when he hit- he pinched his own arm to stop that thought. It was wrong of him to think like that, coming up with excuses for his actions even in his own thoughts, that’s not right (Though in public it’s all right). He did this. Arthur Kirkland did this. All of this is his fault… and stupid Edelstein’s.  
He slowly walked over to the bed and looked at the man lying on it. He had blonde hair that fell across his face shielding the plasters on the fair skin. He looked quite pale. Arthur wondered whether the man was alive at all, a thought which was confirmed by the steady movement of his chest and the beeping of the machine next to him. Arthur sighed in relief. Not dead. That was great news. Now maybe the guy could wake up and forgive Arthur for nearly making his next home a grave.  
“Arthur, do you know who he is?” his father asked gently. The blonde shook his head and just stared at the man. Arthur reached his hand out to stroke the man’s head, a gesture which was stopped by his mom. “You might not want to do that. He bruised his head quite badly.”  
Arthur’s mouth formed an ‘Oh’ before closing again.  
“So when will he wake up?” Arthur asked as he studied the man’s face.  
“He should anytime now.” Arthur nodded in understanding before bending down to get a closer look. The man had a good jaw line with a trace of stubble on it. And his lips were quite pale. Not unexpected as he just came out of OPD. Arthur traced his finger down the man’s nose tentatively. He had a plaster neatly pasted on it. Arthur swallowed. It must have been a good looking nose, thin and long with just a bit of turn and now courtesy of Arthur and his Mini cooper, it’s broken.  
His Mom and Dad stared from behind. Why was their son groping the injured man’s face?  
Arthur, however carried on, he looked at the eyelashes. Long and nice, curling upwards, they moved revealing-Arthur was spell bounded by what he saw- beautiful blue eyes, the colour of the vast ocean underneath a sky with just a few clouds-just amazing.  
“Excusez-moi? Why are you so close?”  
Arthur stared and stared and stared. He’s awake. And French.  
“Shit.”  
Arthur straightened up and glared at the Frenchman. “You seem fine. Good. I am leaving.” He turned and nearly walked away but stopped when the Frenchman asked, “Who are you Monsieur?”  
Arthur turned and replied quite curtly because he was still embarrassed by what had happened a while before (it’s not the car thing) and plus he was not one to apologise. “Arthur Kirkland.”  
“Okay Arthur.” He said with an accent which ticked Arthur off. “Do you know why I am here?”  
Freda smiled as she walked over to the man. “He hit you with his car but you are all right.”  
Arthur glared at his mom. She never lost an opportunity to humiliate her sons or hit them. ‘Tough love’, she called it. Her children had other more colourful words to describe it.  
The Frenchman was stunned. Arthur hit him with his car? “But how?”  
“Well quite simple really,” Edgar Kirkland replied. “You were crossing the intersection like a careful civilized man and he hit you with his car. Anyway tell me young man, what is your name?”  
The blue eyes knitted in frustration trying to remember. He then looked up at the three Kirklands and sealed Arthur’s fate with his next words.  
“I can’t remember.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, If any of you think this story is familiar, it probably is. I uploaded this first on fanfiction. But seeing that FrUk needs more stories here, I decided to upload it here as well.  
> I am not quite sure how long this would go on for but I do hope you will enjoy reading it. Thank you. See you next chapter.


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